


crescent imprints

by akielon



Series: way of looking [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Laurent Knows, M/M, POV Laurent, bath scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-12
Updated: 2016-07-12
Packaged: 2018-07-23 15:37:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7469253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akielon/pseuds/akielon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Why?</em> </p><p>Because he had killed his brother, the only one in this world he loved. The only one that truly loved him back. And Laurent was going to return the favour.<br/>He curled his lips into a smile, and pulled Damianos forward.</p>
            </blockquote>





	crescent imprints

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first part of a series I'm currently working on, where I will re-write some of what I think are the most iconic scenes of Captive Prince from Laurent's POV.

Laurent watched a dumbfounded Damen walk into the baths, clearly confused as to why he was there. He could see him eye him down, warily and carefully, lifting a hand up to his collar. It wasn't hard to discern what was going through the barbarian's mind - he was wondering why he was being left alone, unchained, in the same room as the Prince. Laurent found how much he was underestimated amusing.

After a moment, he decided to taunt him.

"Contrary to your appearance, you're quite shy." A brief pause. "Don't you fuck boys in Akielos?"

The slave's face remained impassive. "Before I fuck anyone, I check to see if their voice has broken."

"Really?" Laurent's eyebrow rose a fraction. "Before you kill a man, do you check to see if their voice has broken as well? How noble of you."

He could see Damen flush at his words, the rosy colour almost imperceptible against his dark skin to less keen eyes. He decided to push it.

Leaning against a marble pillar, he looked into the barbarian's dark brown eyes, not allowing him to break eye contact.

"Tell me, did you fight at Marlas?" His tone was honeyed, but his eyes were not.

He saw Damen react to his words - a flush and a shift of weight from one foot to another - and then trying to disguise it. It was entertaining.

"Yes."

Laurent smiled. "How many did you kill?"

Tension filled up the room as the question remained in the air, unanswered. Laurent didn't really care about the answer; it didn't matter if Damen had the blood of dozens or thousands in his hands - he only cared about  _ one _ person's blood.

"I don't know."

_ Liar _ .

"Lost count?" He forced his voice to remain pleasant.

Laurent's eyes were on Damen as he tried to carefully thread through the subject, he knew he was on a knife edge, one slip and he would be exposed.

He decided to press on the wound, "The noble barbarian won't fuck boys, but he will be more liberal with his sword than with his cock."

Another flush. "It was battle. There was death on both sides."

_ The only death that mattered was on our side. _

"Oh, yes. I would have liked to kill more," his stare was cold, "but my uncle has a soft spot for vermin. You've met him."

Rearranging himself against the pillar, Laurent sought a position that looked even more enticing than the one before. Judging by the bob of Damen's throat, he had found it.

He could see the cogs in the barbarian's head turn and churn. "You've waited six days to talk to me about your uncle?"

Silence lingered between them in the vast room, being disturbed only by the sound of running water. He could sense Damen's tension, and was enjoying making him squirm. Lifting his shoulders from the pillar, he walked on over to the small table that Radel had ordered placed in the baths, filled with all of the Crown Prince's favourite delicacies.

"My uncle has left for Chastillon. He'll be there for five more days. Which means," he held up a single cherry, popping it into his mouth. "You and I will finally get to be alone."

His lips stretched into a small smile, but his eyes remained cold. 

"Alone," said Damen, "with your guards guarding the door."

Golden eyebrows arched. "Afraid you won't be allowed to hit back?"

His voice sweetened further, and behind it, laid a threat.

"You seemed a little agitated in the ring." he cocked his head to the side, letting a bit of his golden hair fall onto his face, "I must say, the part I liked best, was when you were on your hands and knees."

Damen tightened his lips, giving no reply.

"Shall I tell you the part you liked best?" He took a step forward.

"There was  _ nothing _ about that that I liked," said Damen.

"Oh, but there was." He smiled, stepping closer. "You liked it when you knocked that man down, and you liked it even more when he didn't get up. You would like to hurt me too, wouldn't you?"

"Do you want to find out? Is that why I’m here?" said Damen, a flirtatious undertone to his voice.

Laurent had the suppress the snarl of disgust that was forming at his lips.

"I'm here to bathe." He paused. "Come here."

Laurent stood there, schooling his expression, as the disgust he felt grew with each step the barbarian took towards him. He had to remember himself why he was doing this in the first place, that the revulsion he was feeling was outweighed by what he had in store for his slave, the prince-killer - his brother's killer.

"Strip." Laurent said, coolly.

After a brief moment of hesitation, Damen unpinned his garments, letting them fall to his feet and expose himself. Laurent's eyes wandered along the tanned body with disinterest - the man was terribly good-looking, and Laurent would have felt attracted to him, if it weren't for the scar on the man's shoulder, and what it meant.

"Undress me."

Laurent reached his hand out, palm up, exposing the laces of his sleeve. It amused him greatly that the once future king of Akielos, his sworn enemy, was being reduced to such a demeaning, servile task. 

Once Damen was done with the tight, minuscule laces of one arm, he held out his other one. Reduced to his inner white shirt, his pants and his boots, Laurent stared as Damen hesitated.

"Am I to wait until you lose your modesty?"

His blue eyes followed Damen's movements as he knelt down to take off his boots. Laurent found that he quite liked having him at his feet and beneath his eye level - where he belonged.

At the first contact of skin, he couldn't help but shiver. He was on edge, and understandably so - his brother's murderer was currently undressing him.

And then Laurent was naked, they both were, with the last barrier between them being thrown off to the floor. He feigned indifference, highly aware that Damen was currently eyeing him down. A nauseating feeling threatened to take over him as he recognized the desire in the animal's eyes.

He turned and made for the stairs, slowly descending into the crystalline water. The warm wet feeling on his skin did nothing to soothe his nerves. Soon enough, the sound of splashes came from behind, but he did not turn - this was a game he was playing, and he had to win. 

"Wash me." His voice was nothing but a whisper, barely audible over his own heartbeat.

He was nervous and high-strung, but he had to remain cool. If he played his cards right, he would get what he wanted most: Damianos dead, without giving his uncle any usable leverage.

Laurent kept his recoiling to a minimum as the soapery water ran down his back. He could feel the hesitancy in the slave’s fingers, but behind the careful and slow movements laid a pit of curiosity. Laurent knew his body was not devoid of the beauty that graced his face, he knew that the muscles beneath the barbarian’s wandering hands were taut and well-trained. He could almost feel the surprise in Damianos’ touch - he was being underestimated, again.

Droplets of hot water stilled in Laurent’s chest as Damianos washed his lower back, and as the wash-cloth travelled more and more south, Laurent escalated his breathing into soft pants. 

He could feel the barbarian hardening against his back and smiled to himself, despite his revulsion - the idiot slave was taking the bait. Feigning chastity, he allowed Damen to catch a glimpse of his flushed face. Laurent had long learned how to use his good looks to get what he wanted, and he knew just how much of a picture he was when flustered: his cheeks were like small roses blooming in the midst of ivory and gold.

He heard the slave's breath hitch. Laurent knew Damianos wasn’t stupid, but he also knew of the Akielon Prince’s obvious weakness for his complexion - after all, he had done his research. He smirked - this was almost too easy.

Turning, he presented his chest up for washing, his eyes bearing into the brown of the slave’s. He parted his lips slightly as rough hands brushed past his collarbones, gentle and cautious. Laurent watched as Damianos rubbed the scented oils onto his skin, his eyes trained on the task at hands. The barbarian’s eyes widened when a suffocated moan intentionally slipped past Laurent’s lips, as the wash-cloth grazed his rosy nipple.

Damen’s hands stilled. Much to Laurent’s surprise he couldn’t quite read the look in the slave’s eyes, but the slow bob of his throat needed no translation. Laurent quirked up an eyebrow, silently measuring Damianos. 

Slowly, as if waiting to be slapped away, one of Damen’s hands came to rest on Laurent’s neck. He didn’t move it, his eyes flickering back to Laurent’s to see if he had overstepped any boundaries.

Silently tilting his head into the rough, calloused hand, Laurent wished the barbarian would be more true to his name, and give in faster - there was only so much the veretian could put up with. But Damianos continued to stare at his lips, his thumb slowly caressing Laurent’s skin. 

“What are you waiting for?” Laurent purred, trying to hide the growing irritation he was feeling.

Damen gave him no reply, his gaze still on Laurent’s lips. Until it wasn’t, and Laurent felt a warm hand on his hip bringing him forward, chest against chest.

Still looking into Laurent’s eyes, the akielon brought their mouths closer and closer, until only a hairsbreadth separated them.

“Why are you doing this?” 

Laurent could feel the barbarian’s lips graze against his, the touch both tantalizing and nauseating.

_ Why was he doing this?  _

Because he was the Crown Prince of Vere; he had to protect his people from this barbarian, from his uncle’s conniving schemes.

He ran his hand along Damen’s muscular arms, while his other one came to rest on the savage’s chest. Right above the thorned and ugly scar.

_ Why? _

Because he had killed his brother, the only one in this world he loved. The only one that truly loved him back. And Laurent was going to return the favour. 

He curled his lips into a smile, and pulled Damianos forward. 

Laurent kissed him, slowly, cruelly, deliberately. There was nothing sweet about the way his stone-cold lips moved around Damen's, how his nails carved crescent imprints onto the akielon slave's back. A presage if you will; for everything had been previously thought out, from the way he postured himself to the way he glimpsed up at the giant brute from underneath his golden lashes. Everything calculated to land the Crown Prince of Akielos, the prince-killer, in a flogging post.

What wasn’t calculated however, was how Damianos kissed - his hands cradling his face, and his mouth warm and gentle against the coldness of Laurent’s. There was a dominance in the way Damen’s lips moved; he demanded total surrender, and Laurent felt himself slowly giving it to him. He had never been kissed like this.

This was dangerous.

Laurent’s hand snaked onto the back of the taller man’s head, pulling him further into the kiss. Later he would tell himself it was intentional, that he knew what he was doing, that he hadn’t drop his guard for something as small as a kiss.

Damen broke the kiss, and they both stood in silence, staring at each other. Laurent couldn’t read the other man’s expression. 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Didn’t I?” His fingers traced the scar in Damianos’ chest, he was careful not to show anything on his face.

“Still not an answer.” He lowered his hands to rest on the small of Laurent’s back.

“It would be terribly rude to leave King Kastor’s gift unused, don’t you think?”

He felt rather than saw the impact of his words - the way the barbarian’s shoulders tensed up and the hands that left his back, a cold feeling replacing them.

Laurent kept his eyes on the hideous scar - the last thing his brother did in his life.

“Were you not given to me? Are you not a slave, Damen?” He looked up. “Pleasure slave - that’s what you are now.”

He saw the outrage boiling in Damianos’ eyes.

“Chained up and collared.” His fingers continued roaming across the brute’s chest.

Damianos’ jaw was tight. Laurent was enjoying himself.

“You’re less than a regular whore,” Laurent smirked, “those at least get paid for their services. You fuck when and who I tell you to fuck.”

The slave recoiled from his touch, as if putting distance between himself and Laurent’s words.

He cocked his head. “What? Did you think there was something else between us?” Laurent took a step forward, reaching out. “I  _ own _ you.”

“ _ No one owns me _ ,” Damen spat, catching his wrist in a hard grip. 

“Don’t be presumptuous,” said Laurent coldly.

Laurent dropped his arm, hitting Damianos sharply on the cheek. To his credit, the barbarian didn’t even flinch.

“Get him out of here.” His voice was but a whisper, yet it was enough for the guards stationed outside.

In an instant, the prideful Heir of Akielos was on his knees, his hands restrained behind his back and a murderous look on his face.

“What should we do with him, Your Highness?”

“Take him to the cross. Wait for my arrival.”

A brief pause.

And then, “Your Highness, we were instructed not to hurt the-”

“You will do as I say or you will take his place on the flogging post.”

He glanced back down to the fallen prince, eyes meeting.

“Go. Now.”

“As you wish, Your Highness.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! And as always, kudos and comments are incredibly appreciated.  
> You can always shoot me an ask on my [tumblr](http://andrewnminyard.tumblr.com/ask).


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